


To Dwell With Thee

by Chuksha



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Not Epilogue Compliant, Not Harry Potter and the Cursed Child Compliant, Original Character Death(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-22
Updated: 2017-10-03
Packaged: 2018-12-05 12:53:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11578470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chuksha/pseuds/Chuksha
Summary: I refuse to believe Harry was happy with the aurors, Snape died or that the war dismantled the house divisions just like that. I also refuse to believe that he was the kind of self-centered emotionally abusive prick we see in Cursed Child- so I fixed it. Expect strong language.





	1. Head of the House

Harry stepped into the carefully contrived warmth of the bar with its dark upholstery and oak furniture and his tension melted away. In the semi darkness of the evening lighting, he glanced around automatically and sighed. He looked back at the bar abruptly and found himself stepping forward with a confidence and ease only being a regular customer in a place like this could bestow on a man as he approached, taking care to clear his throat as he stepped into Snape's vicinity.

"Harry, how are you, love?" Harry nodded at the bartender and half smiled.

"Not bad, Lav, but it's Friday so you know where I just came from." He commented. As a mind healer, he made no secret of his own mental health issues, it helped his clients trust him.

"Your usual then?" Harry nodded.

"And whatever professor Snape wants." Snape turned to him with a raised eyebrow. It wasn't unusual for Harry to buy him a drink but it still shocked him somehow.

"I have not been a professor for over thirty years." Harry half smiled at the words. He'd developed an understanding with the man over the many years of regular nights propping up this bar.

"And for twenty five of them I've been telling you, you don't stop being a professor of a subject just because you dropped teaching it. It's a matter of respect."

"Whatever you say, doctor." Harry smirked. Same old Snape. Two large firewhiskies were being poured on the bar. Harry picked up his and Snape mirrored his actions.

"To Healer Fenwick," Harry muttered, "the bastard knows his job." Snape snorted and downed the shot. Harry looked back over the bar as Lavender was pouring his usual pint of muggle lager. "Is Albus here yet?" She nodded into a dark corner. "How is he?"

"Muttering about Gryffindors."

"When isn't he?" Harry quipped. He was proud of his son but the young head of Slytherin house had a job Harry wouldn't have wished on his worst enemy. He tapped Snape on the shoulder in invitation, the man tilted his head in acceptance and stood. They had been drinking together for so many years it was natural for them to do so tonight with Harry's son. Albus and Severus had been on first name terms since the younger had been in school. As Harry approached the table Albus stood, his smile was strained. Harry passed him his drink with a warm hello.

"Can't stay late dad, Severus, got a couple of Gryffindors to expel in the morning," there was a vindictive glint in his sons eyes that made Harry's smile very fixed

"What happened this time?"

"Couple of seventh years attacked one of my fifth years and Draco doesn't have enough cauldrons for them to scrub or livers for them to pickle and satisfy me this time." Harry winced. "She's laid out in the hospital wing."

"Anyone I know?"

"Goyle." Harry didn't have to ask anymore. He sighed as they all sat.

"That's the third time this term isn't it?" Harry asked softly. Albus nodded.

"And it's not even November, She wouldn't fight back, should've heard what she said when I asked why she didn't even raise her wand last time..." Harry exchanged a look with Severus who sat back in his chair as he realised his son was taking about the girl in the past tense.

"Probably the same thing she said the first time?" Harry asked carefully. Albus looked like a man twice his age.

"I really hope her parents press charges and I swear end of this year Minerva can find herself a new head of Slytherin, someone who can actually connect with these kids and keep them alive!" Albus muttered, Harry could almost see the self loathing rolling off his son.

"She chose you for a reason,"

"Dad, come on we both know why she chose me." Albus' tone brooked no argument but Harry wasn't about to back down so easily.

"Yeah, you're a master duellist, youngest charms professor ever and you came up through Slytherin house. You're literally the ideal candidate." Albus snorted and took a large mouthful of ale.

"Yeah, because it doesn't ring hollow at all when I tell my students their names are their own to make or desecrate and they've got nothing to live up to or hide."

"Well you know what it is to have a difficult name to live with..." Harry muttered. "I should know I gave it to you for a reason." Albus set his pint down deliberately slowly.

"I never asked why you did that to us." Harry half laughed.

"No Fenwick did earlier, two hours on 'did you really think it was appropriate to name your children after convicts, matrys and mental cases, Potter?' " Albus laughed out loud but there was a bitter edge to it that made Harry's already shattered psyche want to curl up and die after his weekly session with another mind healer.

"What did you tell him?" Harry set down his drink and leaned back pinching the bridge of his nose.

"The lie I told the three of you when you were all teenagers."

"It'd be nice to hear you not blame mum for once." Harry didn't answer at first.

"James was easy enough, your mum wouldn't let me name him after Hagrid or Arthur, said it wasn't right to name him like that when I had other closer family." Albus knew that. "Course he grew so well into that name I learned not to regret it too much." Albus drank slowly from his half empty glass. He'd heard that before too, "Lily, well, Molly threatened to hex me if I did what I wanted," Albus opened his mouth as if to argue, "and it didn't seem fair to teddy, having to watch her grow up with his mums name when even she never liked it."

"Can't argue there,"

"And then there was you," Harry took a long drink. Fenwick had torn him apart over Albus, but it was nothing to what his son had done over the years. "You I put my foot down on, your mum was half dead in the bed after that labour, My doctoral thesis was due in that week, your aunt Hermione had already collapsed from exhaustion and I really think Ron might have killed me if Ginny hadn't lived. They argued and battled me but I knew I only had one shot at setting you up for life if things went wrong." Harry exchanged a look and a silent apology to Snape who half shrugged, he was only sat here for the company. "They put you in my arms Albus and and I look down, you know you had my eyes right from the start?" Albus had heard as much as his father before him about Lily Potter's eyes, he'd stopped drinking to listen. "I knew then, you were the one who would have to be strong, you'd be the one I'd be lucky to see reach adulthood," Harry half laughed, "these eyes are a curse like that." He couldn't keep the bitterness from his voice. "I'd have sooner seen you with my scar than my eyes." Albus wouldn't meet his gaze. Harry had never admitted that out loud before. "So I gave you the name I did, and I prayed it would be enough to keep you alive when I wouldn't be around to do it anymore."

"That's what you told Fenwick?" Albus asked quietly. Harry shook his head.

"I told Fenwick I was wracked by guilt and traumas and hadn't been thinking straight." Harry lifted his drink to his lips and drained it. "But I'll be honest with you. As much as it caused you all trouble and problems, I'd have never named any of you any different." Harry lifted his glass and shook it slightly in lavender's direction. "'Cept maybe James, but that's a totally different story." Harry took the drinks from the tray lavender brought over and dropped a galleon on it with quiet thanks.

"So this is why you wrote to me to meet here, you lost a student and you're feeling sorry for yourself?" Harry asked abruptly as lavender disappeared and he pushed a fresh drink towards his son. Albus flinched as if Harry had hit him.

"Never did learn how to be tactful, did you Potter?" Snape commented wryly. Harry half laughed. He knew his son and his son knew him. After Ginny died they had reached an understanding that had eluded them whilst she lived.

"You raised me better than to dwell on my failings," he shot back equally harshly.

"Good, glad to know you listened instead of following my example." Albus half shook his head. Harry had done a lot of stupid things in his life but he never seemed to grasp that he was still very much a good example for his sons even if he had been something of a distant father.

"Actually, following your example, that's what I wanted to talk to you about." Harry waited with raised eyebrows. "I know you'd said you'd never go back after lily left but I need your help," Harry watched his son hesitate, "both of you." Harry and Severus exchanged glances again, Harry had an uneasy feeling. This was why Albus had come here and not invited him to drink in the three broomsticks. "I'm pulling all the Slytherins out of classes for a week as a mark of respect. That's what I told the headmistress anyway." Harry reached out and touched his sons arm. Albus didn't move it away. "My seventh years are ready to declare war dad, and I'm ready to let them."

"Albus," Harry didn't like the sound of that.

"No, dad, one of their own was killed today, an innocent kid killed because she had the audacity to have a death eater for a father. Two of her friends ended up with broken bones trying to help her. She didn't do anything wrong, she was a good kid, smart worker, wouldn't hurt a fly." Harry watched, helpless, as tears streamed down his sons face. Albus lifted a hand and swiped at the tears impatiently. "James wrote to me, told me about that new one they're going up against." Harry deliberately set his drink down in preparation for what he was about to hear, "He's already accusing my kids of being in league because it seems to be targeting muggleborns." Harry let out a low growl of anger and Snape hissed almost as if he'd been hit by a stinging hex. James was a born auror, fast, tough and lacking any tact or ability to see past the shadow of a dark mark over every Slytherin badge.

"I'll have your uncle have a word." Harry said sharply, too sharply.

"You and I both know uncle Ron probably made him write in the first place." Albus shot back, his tone edged with steel. "No other way he was picking up a quill to me." Harry wanted to hug his son but he knew better, Albus wouldn't appreciate it. He'd long since been estranged from his brother and it had been a longer time coming when it had happened.

"Then I'll talk to him," Harry snapped, "and he will listen."

"He's an auror dad, his loyalty is to the ministry just like mine's to the school and my snakes." Harry wanted to argue. His loyalty should be to his family and his brother. But the wizarding world was so tribal now it just wasn't realistic to think like that.

"What do you need?" He said instead. Albus nodded and pulled himself together with one last quiet sniff and an eloquent swallowing of his own grief.

"Two things. First," Albus looked between them, "I've got Slytherins out of classes for a week, I don't intend to leave them defenceless when they go back." Harry leaned forward as Albus' voice dropped. "Come and teach them, talk to them, both of you?" Harry froze in shock, Snape had slightly more decorum and didn't spill the head off of his drink. "Like you taught us as kids, dad."

"Al, I haven't raised a wand in anger since-"

"Since mum died I know, but you're still the best, and it's important that you meet these kids now." Harry wasn't sure what his son was getting at. "They need to know that there's someone who wasn't on the same side of the last war as their parents who cares whether they live or die, help me break the cycle. Your name still means something to these kids, dad, use it to help them. Because if James is right and some dark wizard is recruiting I have to put a stop to it, before it starts."

"And you think putting me in front of them-?" Harry couldn't help his incredulity. "Al have you lost your mind? I'm probably personally responsible for half their parents doing stints in Azkaban, they won't want to see me anything but dead. I don't blame them-"

"Will you at least hear me out?" Harry couldn't bring himself to finish the tirade he was working up to.

"Just- Show them there's a better way, offer them a hand out of the cycle they've been dropped into. Show them that you don't see death eaters when you look at them, that someone other than me sees more to Slytherin house than being Gryffindor target practice and violent extremists." He wasn't looking at Harry anymore. He had eyes only for Snape for a moment. He wasn't even talking to his father anymore.

"Al I can't come to Hogwarts, I just, I can't. It was bad enough doing it when you were in school-"

"Oh grow up dad!" Albus finally snapped and dragged his gaze away from Snape. "These kids need you, I'm not asking you as your son. I'm asking you as the only adult who cares whether most of them live or die. I'm telling you if you don't help me I'll do it myself. I'll find this bastard who's trying to recruit my kids into some war and I'll kill him and anyone who stands in my way with my bare hands. " Harry was taken aback by his sons anger, by the strength of his conviction. He'd been shocked into silence at the tirade. Albus had never been so violent in his anger before. He was pulled from it by the sound of Snape bringing his hands together slowly in awed applause.

"And that," Snape said smoothly as he raised his glass in salute, "is why Minerva made you the head of Slytherin house above the rest." Harry was as startled as Albus was. "Anything you need for this endeavour, Professor Potter, which it is in my power to grant, is yours." Harry gaped for what might have been a split second or might have been several sunlit days. Albus recovered more quickly than he did.

"I want them trained, I want them ready so that when someone approaches them, someone raises a wand to them, they can defend themselves, they know better than to fall for it." Albus had a new determination that made Harry want a stronger drink than lager. He'd never been afraid of his son and what he was capable of before tonight. "Draco's going to talk to them and any family about merlin only knows what, hopefully how not to get taken in by the propaganda and peer pressure, I've booked the quidditch pitch and a hundred duelling dummies for Monday all day. I sent out a mass owl inviting the parents and any other family in on Tuesday to spend the day with them, the Goyle's have agreed that we can hold a memorial Tuesday afternoon. At sundown by the lake. I wanted to give them some space to grieve before I started pushing all this on them." Harry had no idea what his son was talking about now he'd lost track the moment he'd realised he was looking at a stranger with his son's face.

"Well executed." Snape commented. "Do you believe the duelling dummies are necessary? These are Slytherin."

"Mainly it's for me to gauge where they are, see how well trained they are so far. I was going to pitch it as a friendly in-house competition, a way of honouring little Alice, she was in the duelling club. Let them blow off some steam."

"Right," Harry cut in having finally understood and caught up, "what days do you want us?"

"I was hoping you'd both come Wednesday morning, I'm thinking I'll get some of the other professors involved in a duelling tournament, show them what can be done, get them excited to learn it."

"You're giving us three days to get them battle ready?" Harry asked. Albus shrugged.

"I thought you'd appreciate the vote of confidence."

"I don't know whether you're mad or genius."

"Ask me in ten years when we know how many of them lived that long." Harry couldn't bear to see his son carry so much weight on his shoulders.

"You really do love them like they're you're own," Harry had met enough grief stricken fathers in his work to know what he was looking at.

"Course I do, dad, most of them look to me for an example their father's can't or won't provide and they're as close as I'll ever get." Harry wanted to interrupt, to tell his son that even muggles had ways now, but this wasn't about that. "Maybe one day you'll take that open offer of a job and see for yourself what meeting these kids does to a man." Harry shook his head.

"I'll never go back to Hogwarts as a teacher Al, not whilst the rightful headmaster isn't there. You know that." They lapsed into a thoughtful silence, When Albus had finally asked his why he kept turning the offer down he'd told his son the truth. He was of the opinion that there should never be two living Hogwarts headteachers and mcgonogalls failure to maintain order was her punishment for trying it. They had never spoken of it again. "If there's a war coming mcgonogall will step down anyway," Harry commented, "she's not a wartime headteacher, she can't protect the school and she knows it." Albus couldn't argue.

"Who would you have? If war broke out tomorrow? Who could protect the school?" Albus asked softly, he was stalling on asking his dad the real questions.

"From the current staff," Harry half shrugged, he tried not to think about it, "Nev would be a great offensive head but he doesn't want it, Charlie again, great fighter, ex-order, knows what war looks like but... there wouldn't be any unity," Harry the considered it as he spoke, he was acutely aware that he was well within striking distance if Snape took issue with what he said next. "For me from the current staff... really, You're a bit young, but I'd like to see a Slytherin headmaster again in my lifetime. Maybe Malfoy, Someone who can unite the school not leave the Slytherins in the dungeons." Albus looked surprised. "Historically it's a fact that you unite the school by having a Slytherin head." Snape had stopped drinking and was staring at Harry like he'd spontaneously grown an extra head. Harry was actually aware that making such a comment in present company had created an atmosphere. Harry sighed. "Ok, granted," he added, "half the time the school unites against the head, but it's still united." Albus was glancing between Harry and Snape as if he was watching a particularly riveting volley of tennis. Eventually he changed the subject when it became clear Snape wasn't going to comment.

"Back on topic," he said shortly to diffuse the atmosphere, "I wanted to ask, you're one of the best mind healers in the country. How do I talk to the Goyles tomorrow? How do I look a man in the eye knowing I'm responsible for his daughter being killed and..."

"Al, you're not responsible for this." Harry tried softly.

"She was one of my snakes dad, i let her down." Harry didn't know what to say.

"You want the official answer, the dad answer or my answer?"Harry asked eventually.

"How about a straight answer?" Al asked quietly. He seemed so young for a second. Harry swallowed. His son needed practical advice not platitudes.

"You talk about these kids like they're your own, so father to father," Harry said deliberately, " You do it sober," he said pointedly at the empty glass his son was holding, "you control your emotions and you stay strong for them. They just lost their kid. You're the person who probably knew her best. Don't avoid talking about her. Don't sugar coat it or try and soften the blow. They won't thank you for it. You can do your crying when they've gone and your kids are in bed." Albus looked up at him through glassy eyes.

"Like you did?" Harry didn't argue. That was exactly what he'd done when Ginny died and he'd do it exactly the same way again if he had to.

"If you have to occlude, if you need calming droughts, pepper ups, anything but alcohol then do whatever you have to do to get through it sober and with a clear head. Keep dreamless sleep in your room, you're going to have a lot of students asking for it. That was one of the few things I did right after your mum died." Harry told him gently. "Then come see me, we'll work on some coping strategies you can teach them." He offered knowing that his son would take him up on it for the sake of the kids.

"Her mother's an American, muggleborn," Albus whispered, "she was so proud her daughter got into Hogwarts, she was Salem, she wrote to me at least once a month asking how her daughter was doing, asking if there was anything she needed or wanted." Harry found a lump growing in his throat. "Mr Goyle was always worried she'd take after him, always wanted to know her grades and teachers reports, demanded a full learning screening the minute she arrived at the school- said if he'd not had his when his head of house saw the way he formed his letters he might never have learned to read properly at all." Albus sighed, he was too stressed to notice Snape's surprise at his words. "I keep saying I'm going to push the headmistress to make it mandatory every time I get a new one with dyslexia but I never got round to it."

"One thing at a time Al, get though the next week. Then you can go to war if you have to." Harry told him. He knew his son, Albus wouldn't rest until he'd plugged every gap and changed every little thing that might possibly have led to this. Albus seemed to appreciate the wisdom of his father's words. "I'll even join you if you're that hard up for fighters." He quipped. Albus fixed him with a look of distaste.

"Don't joke dad, and don't make promises you can't keep."

"Who says I'm joking?" Harry shot back. "I told you when you asked me if you should take the job and if I'd back you, any wannabe dark lord thinks he'll do well here, thinks he can work his way into my son's house, better be ready to kill me first. And we've established that I don't die too easily." Albus actually laughed, really laughed. It must have been Harry's tone that broke him as he'd said it- as if he were commenting on the weather.


	2. A House in Mourning

Albus woke with a pounding headache and an owl tapping on his window. He stood and stumbled as he pushed the latch open and it flew in. It dropped a small parcel on his bed. After the usual spells, he opened it carefully.

 

_You are not the first head of Slytherin house to attend grieving parents. Calming draught, hangover cure, pepper up, steeling solution. Doses on the bottles. Allergy approved, Master Brewed. -SS_

 

He wanted to cry at the man's thoughtfulness, all of the potions looked fresh. Severus must have been up most of the night brewing them especially as the list of ingredients Albus was allergic to ran over several feet of parchment. He quaffed the hangover cure and pepper up quickly and once his ears stopped smoking he began to dress in black mourning robes. He had a house meeting to attend after he'd seen the headmistress and he wasn't looking forward to it.

 

-

 

"They killed my student, Minerva!" He Snarled, he couldn't believe her sat there trying to defend them. "I want them expelled if her parents don't press charges then I will!"

 

"Professor Potter control yourself, those boys are both bright and capable young wizards-"

 

"Capable of murder you mean!" Albus snapped over her.

 

"Professor-"

 

"Is this what you did when my grandfather and his friend nearly killed Snape? Defended them? Talked about how bright and capable they were?" It was a low blow but he didn't care, she'd gone white at his words. Good. "Is that why James wasn't expelled when he nearly killed Scor in my second year? How many Slytherins have you sacrificed for your precious Gryffindors, _Minerva_? How many more are you willing to bury before their time?" Several of the portraits on the walls were muttering at his disrespect.

 

"Albus you're young,"

 

"Don't. Don't you dare!" He hissed. "Those two Gryffindors are both seventeen. Be grateful I'm not demanding to have them kissed, as. Is. My. _Right_ as her head of house!"

 

"You would not." She didn't look half as sure as her tone suggested.

 

"I'll see their wands snapped publicly instead and accept that, and only that, as the only other alternate form of justice. I will not defend anything less to her housemates..." and if didn't accept it the Slytherins would take that as his approval to declare war and his demand for their self-control was the only reason the school was still standing, "Your choice headmistress," he swept from the room before she had chance to respond. He had children to comfort.

 

-

 

"Many of you will already know why I have gathered you here this morning." He was glad he'd taken half the steeling solution before he'd stepped through Slytherins portrait. "Some will not." He paused to gather himself and looked around at them. Some of the older students were already wearing black armbands. "Alice Goyle is dead." Several students yelled, some cried out, one screamed and his knees buckled and someone else caught him before he hit the ground.

 

"Slytherin house will not show weakness." He forced the words out and they seemed to hit each student with the force of a professional beaters best swing. They were more than an unofficial house motto. "We will not descend into madness. There will be no retaliation, no grief stricken attacks. You are not rash Gryffindors to go attacking without consideration." Here was a low hiss of angry whispers, "You are my Slytherin's, Alice Goyle will be the first and last of you I will ever accompany from this castle wrapped in a burial shroud. _Do I make myself clear_?" He wasn't sure where the force came from, it came from a place of deep bitterness and anger. It came from the place that hated every Gryffindor and everything they stood for. His mother's fiery temper and his father's cool rage. Silence had descended over the room. "The students responsible will be punished appropriately. I will have justice for Alice. You have my word as your head of house." Several stood up straighter as if to offer their support. "Today we stand as one house, one family, mourning one of our own." He forced himself to keep a lid on his anger, to stay cool and collected. "Her parents will be here in one hour to accompany her home. Your prefects have suggest a guard of honour as she leaves the castle grounds this evening. I agree it is fitting." Some students nodded, others were still stunned. "Prefects!" His sudden bark made many jump.

 

"Sir!"

 

"They plan to leave at sundown, I want an immaculate turnout, every Slytherin will attend, no excuses. Today we mourn a child who died in defence of the honour of this house. Alice Goyle was a true Slytherin, It is the very least we can do."

 

"Yes, sir."

 

"None of you will attend classes next week, you will partake in specifically arranged activities in honour of Alice Goyle." A low murmur rose. "Including a memorial service on Tuesday evening which her parents have granted permission for us to hold and will attend." Silence again. "Your families have been invited to join you and provide support at this time." There was still an air of unease. He had to address it.

 

"You are Slytherins, even in your mourning you will be watched, you will be suspected, you will be treated with disdain. Do not give them any excuse." He hated that he had to say what he'd been mentally rehearsing all morning, "There will be whispers that she was a half-blood. Judgement cast on her father. They will say that our grief is not genuine. Our only response will be that she was a Slytherin. That she was one of us. We will be their shield in their grief. Do not desecrate her memory by lowering yourselves to partaking in petty squabbles. Defend yourselves if you must. Do not attack. Remain above reproach. Stand united. For her. Slytherin endures." He cut off abruptly for a second as tears sprung to his eyes and his students murmured the words back like a prayer. "I will be with Mister and Missus Goyle all day, Professor Malfoy has offered support for anyone who requires, no one will judge you for taking it. Once they have left today we will mourn together. For now, we show our strength and our solidarity." He flicked his wand and two boxes of black ties and armbands appeared in the room. "You will all wear black ties and mourning bands. House pins will be provided. Ladies; black shoes, no high heels, no makeup, no jewellery, skirts knee length or longer. Black stockings or tights. Gentlemen, uniform trousers and shoes, no trainers, clean shave, no jewellery, black socks, control your hair." He glanced at one of his fifth years, "black headscarf," he told Farah Mohammed and she nodded. Her older brother was murmuring under his breath, prayer beads in hand.

 

"I have one sir," he found himself looking at the sixth year he'd watched bloom from shy child to young man who had already torn his shirt, "Mr Cohen, you are not required to shave, the family will be advised of your faith." He nodded once in gratitude at the recognition.

 

"None of you are required to do anything but be respectful of this tragedy, each other and each other's faiths. Those wishing to pray or meditate may do so. You will all grieve differently," he deliberately made eye contact with each one of them, "this does not mean you cannot rely on each other and grieve together."

 

"Sir," he looked at the child, all concern and worry and watery eyed grief, "what about you? You liked Alice, you looked after her, helped her a lot with her reading. You have someone to talk to, don't you?" Someone muttered something about Hufflepuff hat stalls and how dare he be so disrespectful to a professor and Albus nearly blew a hole in the wall. Instead, he pretended not to hear, schooled his features and bent in front of the first year who'd had the nerve to say such a thing.

 

"Your concern is appreciated Mr Flint, but unnecessary." He stood up and slowly raised his voice "Do not worry yourselves about my well-being. You are my students. That is not your role. My door is always open to you. Always." Several nodded, some even murmured something that sounded like thanks. "She leaves at sundown. You have four hours to prepare. Do her proud." Students were moving forward, diving into the boxes for ties and armbands. He turned to leave.

 

"Sir?" Albus froze. Evans' father was a Muggle military man and he'd ruled his family with an iron fist. The son had a habit of talking too harshly and always a little too loudly.

 

"Yes, Mr Evans?" He answered calmly, slowly.

 

"Please pass all our condolences to her parents, and request our permission to have some time at her memorial for student speakers." Albus nodded.

 

"How many?" He asked quietly.

 

"Her best friend had already requested, I would also be honoured as her immediate prefect,"

 

"This memorial is to be a dignified occasion, Mr Evans." His concern that a fifteen-year-old wanted to speak at a funeral was evident.

 

"It will be sir, even if I have to raid Professor Malfoy's stores and spike the whole house dinner table with calming draught to make it so." Albus nodded.

 

"That will not be necessary, I will carry the request, Mr Evans. Her father will decide. Two student speakers are quite enough."

 

"Thank you, sir."

 

-

 

Albus barely made it to the gate before the Goyles arrived, clinging to each other. His dad's words were echoing around his skull. Be strong for them.

 

"Mr and Mrs Goyle," he didn't offer empty platitudes and the man shook his hand with the strength of a bull even in his grief, he didn't seem to have any words as Albus led them into the school. He was horrified to find Evans waiting for them at the doors.

 

"Sir." He pulled himself upright and spoke.

 

"What is the meaning of this Mr Evans?" He demanded more harshly than he intended.

 

"Sir, some of her friends, they want to..." he lowered his voice in defence to the grieving parents, "say goodbye before she leaves." Albus felt sick that he had kids who had to even think about it. Evans lowered his voice again, Albus had to lean in to hear. "And a few are asking if they might be permitted to conjure flowers for the shroud, a path of roses for her as she passes," Albus was already halfway through shaking his head, those spells weren't taught until the fourth year, too many students wouldn't know how "we've already got the youngest learning and practicing in the common room." Albus stopped, they were clearly determined. "Most are attempting red and white roses."

 

"Is there a problem, Professor Potter?" Mrs Goyle asked anxiously. She was clearly curious. Albus opened his mouth. Then closed it.

 

"With your permission, some of your daughters closest friends," he said slowly, "would like to pay their respects before you take her home." Mr Goyle made an ugly sobbing sound and clung harder to his wife.

 

"How, how many?" Albus found himself looking at Evans who looked ill at the sudden pressure to speak.

 

"Mr Evans?" Albus tried to temper his tone, to be gentle.

 

"Half a dozen or so, her year group." Mrs Goyle was nodding.

 

"I'd, I'd like to meet them." She choked out between sobs around a daintily held handkerchief. "Her friends." Albus nodded his gratitude at the allowance.

 

"They will be sent for Mr Evans, you will accompany them to the hospital wing from the dungeon." Evans nodded.

 

"Thank you, sir." Albus waved him off and the boy absented himself subtly.

 

"The headmistress," Albus started to make an excuse and it died in his throat, he didn't want to lie to them. Mr Goyle seemed to know.

 

"Never did have time for Slytherins." He said his voice gravelly and fragile sounding. Albus didn't contradict him. "I'd rather deal with you, you're one of us." The man had a simple way about him, a bluntness, that reminded Albus of Hagrid. "You understand." Albus almost denied it, and then he remembered the righteous anger, the determination to see this through. "What she went through, having a father with a reputation. Being a Slytherin." Albus swallowed and nodded. Those things he understood.

 

"Shall we?" They walked in silence and Albus was careful to step back and give them privacy in their grief. The mother wailed like a banshee on seeing her daughter whilst he stood guard at the door. He felt the handle turn and whipped around. Through the glass viewing pane, Draco Malfoy was looking straight at him.

Albus stepped outside without a word and closed the door behind him.

 

"I went to school with Goyle," Draco said, Albus knew that his dad had been in the same year, "I will blast you out of the way if I have to Potter." Albus made a split second decision to step aside. He could take Malfoy in a duel but that didn't matter today. He stepped aside not out of fear but because this was a matter of respect. "Thank you, Potter, I sent you a fresh batch of dreamless sleep with an elf, you know the recommended dosages if your students require anymore do not hesitate to ask." Albus nodded his thanks dumbly, he'd completely forgotten to ask, that was why the potions master smelt like lavender. He watched from the doorway as Goyle and Draco embraced like long lost brothers and Goyle broke down again. Albus decided it was time to give the kids their time and to fetch them himself.

 

He stepped into the common room to find it almost covered in freshly conjured roses, most were white, some were red and a few were other colours where students had botched the spell. He didn't make any noise and watched them for a moment. The oldest helping the youngest with their wand movements, the awe as a third-year girl with tears staining her face finally produced a pure white rose head from the tip of her wand, it broke and mended his heart all at once to see them united in their grief. They were just children, they didn't deserve this.

 

"Mr Evans," he was helping a second year get the proper flick of her wand that would produce a deep red rather than a pink rose. He stood automatically.

 

"Sir." Albus had picked this boy as a prefect for a reason, he was disciplined, had ambitions to be an auror and the skill to do it. He also had a habit of jumping in to defend younger students when Gryffindors attacked. That had been the criteria for Slytherin prefects since Albus had taken the job and far fewer of them now lined the hospital wing of an evening for it.

 

"Students wishing to attend the hospital wing." Evans nodded and worked the room quickly. He was only a year older than the students he was comforting but his presence seemed to make him seem so much older somehow. In a few moments Albus had a row of tear stained fifteen year olds lined up in front of him. "Is this everyone?" Evans nodded.

 

"Sir?" One of them said softly, "her boyfriend, he's a Gryffindor." Albus' gut twisted. "It was meant to be a secret but... Albert Macmillan." Albus had barely noticed the boy, he knew he was sweet in his own way, quiet, an excellent Transfiguration student and had to be a consummate Gryffindor to date a Slytherin girl even in secret. Albus nodded. He couldn't send any of his students up to Gryffindors tower, especially tonight, they might not come back.

 

"Mr Evans you will accompany these students to the hospital wing. I will see to it that Mr MacMillan is given the same opportunity." Albus stopped halfway through the maze that was the dungeons to catch his breath and screw his head back on. He couldn't just go waltzing into Gryffindor's common room tonight, professor or not they'd probably try to kill him if they knew he'd pushed to have two of theirs expelled. The answer came almost as quickly as the question and his feet were already carrying him to his godfather's quarters. He knocked sharply and Neville opened the door almost immediately.

 

"Professor Potter, is there a problem?" Neville didn't look half as confused as the fake tone suggested.

 

"I require word with one of your students. A Mister Macmillan." Albus has fallen into formalities to keep himself calm. "Now." Neville's face softened and he lowered his voice.

 

"He's here, in bits. The rumour mill is already going." Albus didn't comment, he wasn't sure he had the strength to discuss this with Neville and not cry himself, the weight of grief he'd felt in that common room hadn't left him.

 

"There was," Albus said softly, "romantic entanglement," Neville nodded and pulled a face at the thought of teenage hormones, "he has every right to pay his respects. The parents are upstairs, her year mates are en route, one suggested he might wish to join them in saying goodbye."

 

"Is that wise Albus?" Neville said softly, "he's a Gryffindor." Albus half shook his head. "He's in here crying because he thinks it would be disrespectful for him to go up there and he wants to."

 

"Then I will accompany him, professor Malfoy is already there."

 

"The headmistress?" Albus felt a flash of rage that he forced down.

 

"Otherwise detained," Albus answered coolly. "Professor Malfoy and Mr Goyle were in the same school year, it is more fitting this way."

 

"It's a disgrace, the headmistress not meeting grieving parents," Neville growled out. Albus set his jaw to stop himself agreeing. It wouldn't do any good. He opened the door and Albus stepped into Neville's office. Macmillan was crying openly. Albus didn't blame him.

 

"Once they've left, if you feel like talking..." Neville offered quietly. Albus shook his head.

 

"I will probably be in the Slytherin common room until the early hours."

 

"Anytime, day or night Al." He nodded once.

 

"Mr Macmillan, your presence had been requested in the hospital wing." The boy stopped crying.

 

"S-sir?"

 

"You were, romantically involved with Miss Goyle," Albus said slowly. The boy nodded and his face crumpled.

 

"I love her, we were going to get married-" Albus and Neville exchanged looks. Even at fifteen to talk like that, it hadn't been some childish infatuation, this kid was going to have a hard time of it in the coming months. Albus conjured a handkerchief and handed it to the boy.

 

"Clean yourself up mister Macmillan, I will accompany you to the hospital wing."

 

"I, I can go? But I'm a Gryffindor, what if her-" it was Neville who touched the boy's shoulder and quieted him.

 

"It's fine." He told the teen gently. Albus wished he had that ability to soothe his snakes so well. He tended to bark orders and react with practical actions. After his mum died and dad broke down, he'd had no choice. He'd worked with James to organise the funeral and that day was the last day they'd spoken. James had left their father shattered at the graveside rather than stay in Albus' presence any longer than necessary. "Professor Potter will be with you." If nothing else Albus had the respect of his snakes, they wouldn't outright defy him even if they didn't like his decisions. Of course, with Slytherins, all that meant was that he had to be more careful than usual after the fact. They walked to the hospital wing in almost silence save Macmillan's weak sniffing and heavy breathing. The boy froze outside the door. Albus didn't say a word as he watched the play of emotions.

 

"Sir," he said eventually, quietly as if ashamed, "can you," he hung his head as his hands pressed nervously over his outer robe, "it seems, wrong to go in there with..." Albus frowned, "Can you take my house colours off my robes?" The boy asked eventually. Albus didn't know what to do. It would certainly make the situation less volatile. He wanted his dad here to ask. He'd know. He understood Hogwarts house politics. Albus realised the boy was looking at him, waiting for an answer, stricken.

 

"I will not." He said eventually. "Your house does not define you mister Macmillan, any more than Alice's defined her." Macmillan swallowed audibly.

 

"But it was two Gryffindors, everyone's saying..."

 

"All the more reason for you to keep your uniform intact Mr Macmillan," Albus couldn't help noting the awful irony that it was a Gryffindor he was comforting about what house he was in for a change, "your house is not defined by one or two brutes, you have that privilege," he didn't need to tell this boy that his lost love hadn't, he knew, "your grief will always be private after today." Albus said quietly, the boy was risking his own house turning on him if not, "Do not allow your fear to master you." Gryffindors and their arrogance, it was a perfect ploy to use, insinuating that he'd be a coward if he covered his house colours. Teenagers were pleasantly predictable in that regard. The boy straightened his back and nodded grimly. Albus opened the door.

 

-

 

The silence that they had stepped into was thick with tension on seeing the Gryffindor boy.

 

"Oh, Bertie!" In any other situation, a married middle aged woman with a strong American accent flinging her arms around a teenager with such conviction would have been either humorous or disturbingly undignified. In this one, it was hauntingly poignant.

 

"Mrs Goyle I-" she hugged him and cut off young Albert's words. Albus found himself looking at the other professor for guidance. He nodded at the group of Slytherins around the bed. They were staring at the body mostly in shock or confusion. A few had looked up at the commotion. No one said anything. Eventually, they cleared a path for Macmillan to reach the side of the bed. A few touched him or squeezed his arm in support as he passed. Albus didn't want to watch, he'd deliberately avoided approaching. He'd seen this scene before, when his mother died, and he'd never wanted to see it again.

 

"Professor Potter," Draco said eventually when he realised that Albus wasn't going to intervene, "the ministry doctor requires your signature." Albus moved around the outside of the group of students and the Goyle family they surrounded.

 

"Who did they send?" Albus asked quietly, only a doctor could pronounce someone dead and there weren't many in Wizarding Britain.

 

"Someone pulled some strings, they sent your dad as a courtesy." Albus tensed. "He's in the office," Draco nodded down the hospital wing to the matron's station. Albus took a step forward. "Be careful," Draco said softly, "this is getting political."

 

"A child is dead. It should be." Albus answered coolly and swept up the center of the room.

 

Albus tapped smartly on the private office door the matron had directed him to. The absent invitation to enter meant he found his father sat behind the desk, head in hands, paperwork strewn all over the desk.

 

"Dad?" Harry looked up in shock.

 

"Hey Al," Harry tried a weak smile.

 

"Draco said you need my signature?" Harry looked down at the paperwork and sighed.

 

"I've got to rule the cause of death first." He said softly.

 

"It's not exactly alchemy dad, she was murdered. Plain and simple." Albus answered sharply.

 

"You know it's not, Minerva wants accidental death by misadventure, no crime, I can't do that- even if it's what's best for the school."

 

"What's best for her!" Albus hissed.

 

"I told her I won't lie; even still, those boys would do ten years a piece for manslaughter but it's better than the kiss if I rule murder."

 

"I'm not pushing for the kiss. No need to add two more sets of grieving parents to the mix." Albus admitted. "Did they tell you who the two are?" He asked softly knowing it would colour the outcome.

 

"No, they didn't. I didn't ask."

 

"Maybe you should have," Albus said softly, his dad looked up as if waiting for him to give the answer, "Diggory and Cree-" Albus cut off suddenly as he realised. "Be right back." He was out the door and back on the ward before his dad even realised he'd moved. He approached quietly, Macmillan had been crying again, was holding her hand.

 

"Mister Macmillan a word?" He said softly. The boy looked up and must have read the urgency in Albus' expression because he stepped aside without argument although it seemed to take all his will to put her hand down. Albus led the boy back to the office and sat him down. "Ignore him," he commented when Macmillan eyed his father warily, "he's just filling in the paperwork so Miss Goyle's parents can take her home." Macmillan swallowed. "I have a question for you." The boy nodded.

 

"Anything sir, anything I can do..."

 

"Albert," the boy twitched at the switch to his forename from the head of Slytherin, "did any of the other Gryffindors know of your, relationship with Miss Goyle?" He focused on the boy. Eventually, the teen nodded.

 

"Jerry Diggory, the seventh year prefect, he said if I didn't break it off the house would make me." Macmillan had gone white as the words left his lips. "He told everyone But-but that was weeks ago, I-." Albus was ready to put money on it being around then that the girl had been first attacked. "They wouldn't have actually killed her on purpose though, would they, sir?"

 

"Did anyone else seem to take particular issue?" Albus asked softly, avoiding the question.

 

"They're Gryffindors, she is- sorry was, Slytherin,"

 

"Is." Albus corrected shortly. The boy wouldn't look at him.

 

"They all took issue." He muttered quietly. "Colin Creevey took issue but I suppose being named after his dead uncle... he takes issue with all Slytherins like it's his favourite hobby, you know he duelled Zabini last week, sir." Zabini had put the Gryffindor in the hospital for the night, Albus had put everything he had on the line to keep the boy in the school. "Jerry never met his brother either and his parents are a bit, you know, they're old they don't always look at him and see him. It must be hard."

 

"Do not defend the boy, Mr Macmillan-" Albus started to say. He regretted it almost instantly at the expression on the boy's face. He knew Gryffindors well enough to know he'd opened a can of worms.

 

"Why not? She would've! She knew how hard it was being in this school with a family history." Albus suppressed a sigh, most Gryffindors seemed to believe they were the only ones who understood a situation, it was exhausting being around them, "I'm one of the lucky ones my dad was a nobody, but Jerry and Colin, they'll never be anything but shadows of dead men, Jerry got a letter addressed to Cedric last week from his own dad, sir, I mean _come on_!" Albus knew Neville had been fuming for days at Amos Diggory, "and Alice, the minute the sorting hat touched her head she was doomed and there was nothing anyone, not even you, could do to save her!"

 

"Mister Macmillan!" Albus cut in abruptly. "Believe it or not I do not require a lecture from a teenager on the unique difficulties of having a famous father or being named for a dead man." He'd heard enough and said more than he meant to but what was said was said now. "Their actions were indefensible." He said sternly. "And should be deemed even more so in light of their family histories."

 

"Sorry, sir, you know that's not true. Jerry's father's a ministry man, Colin's dads an auror. They'll get away with it. She was just another Slytherin," Albus' jaw clicked, "death eater spawn they called her, that's what the papers will say too, that what they'll do - they'll drag her parents through the mud. Mr Goyle doesn't deserve to have all that raked up again either." Albus couldn't argue with that, it was a personal peeve of his that his kids felt the weight of their family histories so keenly. "Alice wouldn't have wanted that. She'd have sooner watched them walk than drag it all up again if only for her father's sake." Albus wasn't sure about that, unlike the boy in front of him Alice Goyle had not been almost been a Hufflepuff, she was a Slytherin to the core and the only way she'd have wanted those boys to avoid legal repercussions was to live their lives in fear of when retribution would find them, and how. "You know what she said last time they got her." The boy seemed to have bloomed into an angry young man right before Albus' eyes. "She said Slytherin house was starting to get some of its pride back, that's why she never fought back." Albus had stormed from that conversation the headmistress and made it clear that the day one of his Slytherins were expelled for defending themselves would be the day he resigned his post in protest. "Because she didn't want to draw attention to the past when Slytherin was finally moving forward since Slughorn-"

 

" _Professor_ Slughorn, Mister Macmillan," Albus said in the tone of a man used to the long suffering of trying to teach teenagers to have some respect for their elders.

 

"Sorry sir, _professor_ Slughorn," his tone dripped sarcasm over Slughorn's title and Albus pinched the bridge of his nose tellingly. "finally retired and the first real head of house took over since professor Snape left." Albus hadn't told his father that bit. Albus sighed pointedly at the boy but he didn't take the hint to stop talking. "You care about Slytherins regardless even if they don't have famous names or obviously usable skills. That's what her dad told her, that you'd picked up where professor Snape left off. She didn't want to ruin all your hard work." Albus wanted the floor to swallow him whole.

 

"That is all Mr Macmillan-"

 

"Sir!"

 

"I said that would be all, go finish saying your goodbyes." He told the boy firmly. In almost every other possible circumstance he'd have had the boy in the trophy room every night for a week! Apparently Albus still had some of his dignity left because the teen obeyed. He turned back to face his father who was staring at him, transfixed.

 

"Don't want to hear it dad. The kids grieving, he's entitled to rant and who else is there to listen... What's your ruling?" He said quickly, deliberately not meeting his father's gaze.

 

"Lot of familiar names in the Gryffindor common room." Albus didn't answer. "I think, on consideration," Albus knew he was holding his breath, "the hex pushed her down the stairs, but judging by the depth of the marks on her torso, the spells weren't being cast with enough power or intent to do real damage. The aurors can decide the charges based off that."

 

"Manslaughter then, they'll see the world from the other side of Azkaban eventually." Albus said softly. "I still want their wands." Harry didn't argue, he'd heard enough that he agreed.


	3. A House United

Harry shook Goyle's hand when he went to hand over the death certificate. Goyle didn't take the paperwork or let go of his hand.

"What did you put?" He asked thickly, his throat swollen with emotion.

"Manslaughter," Harry answered shortly. Goyle half shook his head.

"No." Harry opened his mouth to argue, if he put murder they'd have the boys kissed by the end of the week.

"It was an accident." Goyle said softly, not meeting Harry's eye. "They were only joking around." Harry's sympathetic smile became very fixed.

"You know that's not true Mr Goyl-" Harry started but the man was already shaking his head.

"Isn't it bad enough their wands will be snapped? I wouldn't wish the dementors on them too." Goyle said bluntly. Harry was suddenly acutely aware that Goyle had served time in Azkaban. He knew what that place was like from the inside.

"They killed your daughter..." Harry said softly. Goyle shook his head mutely.

"No they didn't," he said quietly, "I did, long before she was ever born." Goyle let go and took the paperwork from Harry's hand. He was too stunned at what Goyle had said to formulate a coherent response.

-

Albus eventually returned to the bedside and had Evans take the students back. Draco offered to walk with Macmillan so Albus could stay with the parents.

"Hey Draco," Albus stared at the broken body of the child in front of him as Mr Goyle spoke, "we lost touch a little bit, after all the trials and what have you..." Albus didn't want to intrude on this. "Maybe I'll drop you an owl some time?" Albus could hear the tension thickening.

"Definitely." Something in Draco's demeanour had changed. "Do you still prefer blue parchment?" Irlene syndrome, his daughter preferred green. She said it stopped the letters popping. Albus didn't know if Goyle nodded or not. "Right well, I have potions to attend to, if you'll excuse me. Madame," he bowed slightly to Mrs Goyle, "professor," Albus half nodded.

"Thank you Professor Malfoy," he answered absently and Draco left them alone in silence. Albus loathed to break it.

"Do you, do you know where it happened?" Mrs Goyle asked eventually. Albus hardly reacted to the question, he was still staring at the girl, the empty hole in his chest filling with a sense of nothingness and rage.

"The steps down from the owlery," Albus said shortly. "I am led to believe the altercation began there and followed as she attempted to leave." He'd spent most of the day yesterday interrogating any and every student who claimed to know anything. He'd refused to see those two boys in case he killed them himself. It was no wonder he'd drunk so much with his dad and Severus after he was finished. Mr Goyle nodded.

"Stone stairs," he told his wife, "even with a cushioning charm there's no way..."

"If it's any consolation," Albus started to say slowly, "it was... very quick." He hated himself for even grasping at such a thing.

"So's the killing curse," Mrs Goyle voice was hollow and hard. Albus couldn't disagree. "What will happen to the students who did this?" Her voice was thin and strained as she asked.

"I suspect their wands will be snapped and they will serve prison terms."

"You know where I'm from we'd just execute them." Albus didn't reply. He wasn't sure if she thought it was a good thing or not. "But that won't bring my baby back." Albus swallowed and nodded.

"No," he agreed softly, "it wouldn't."

-

Albus had cast the charm to dress her back in her school uniform and wrap Alice's body when it had become apparent that there was no use in sitting and staring at her any longer. He looked at his watch and sighed. They had been sat here for nearly three hours occasionally taking but mostly in silence. The matron had even supplied tea and coffee. Mrs Goyle had no more tears left and Mr Goyle- Mr Goyle hadn't spoken for over an hour. Albus hadn't tried to fill the silence with empty platitudes.

"Time to go." Mr Goyle muttered hoarsely. The sun was beginning to set outside of the window. Albus flicked his wand knowing a small clock in the Slytherin common room would have twisted its hand to "time to leave" and dinged to get the attention of the students within. He stood slowly. Evans would need at least ten minutes to get them outside. He stepped back and cast a surreptitious featherweight charm as Mr Goyle leant down and picked up what was left of his daughter, carrying her almost bridal style. He nodded in silent thanks for the spell and began to move.

They made a solemn procession moving through the castle and Albus kept his wand low, casting the necessary spells to stop the torches and lights flickering too brightly to life as they passed. Several of the portrait subjects removed their hats and bowed their heads. They had almost reached the entrance hall when Albus heard the commotion. It sounded like half the school was in that room. He picked up the pace and swept past the Goyle family where they had stopped on hearing it and through the oak door without a word.

There had to be over four hundred students lining the steps when he looked up through the middle of the Escher sketch that was the main staircase. Most were Gryffindors but there were odd flashes of yellow and blue amongst the sea of red formal house robes. Every bannister seemed to be lined with faces peering over it. They fell silent as a whisper went up that Professor Potter was at the bottom.

"What is the meaning of this?" He demanded sharply.

"My prefects came to me when Mr Macmillan returned from the hospital wing," Neville said softly as he stepped out of the shadows, "they wanted to be here." Albus wanted to get angry, to demand to know _what they thought they were doing and couldn't they leave their victims to grieve in peace for once?_ But Neville's serene tone stopped him short. "It seems they wish to declare their support for Slytherin house in its hour of need." Albus wasn't sure what this meant; if the fragile peace might last. Neville nodded once as if encouraging him to accept the peace offering. "Your students came through ten minutes ago, they know we are here. All the school prefects and the head boy and girl are waiting at the school gates." Neville offered softly. He lowered his voice even further. "The headmistress is not the school." He raised his voice again. "The school stands with Slytherin house." Several students echoed the sentiment. If this grand gesture became something more Albus wasn't sure if he might look back on this one day as having been worth it.

Albus swished his wand without a word and the double doors he'd just slipped through swung open. He didn't have words for this. He felt like he'd aged several decades in the last day. The parents stood on the other side, grim but still determinedly upright. They had to have expected something. Albus was just grateful the Gryffindors hadn't decided to cause a riot or a ruckus to disrupt proceedings instead. He motioned for them to follow.

He deliberately pointed upwards when they stepped into the room. The silence was deafening. He caught Mr Goyle just in time as the man's legs gave way and managed to keep him upright with a well placed girding charm to the back of his knees.

"Slytherin house does not show weakness, Mr Goyle." He hissed more harshly than he intended as he gripped the man's elbow tightly where it was supporting Alice's head. He didn't know why he said that to a man as old as his father as if he were an errant teenager.

"Yes, Professor." Albus' heart jumped into his throat. Mr Goyle had answered that so automatically Albus wondered if it was his voice the man had heard or the memory of a predecessor. "Slytherin endures." Albus froze. He hadn't expected the response. How far back did those words go? He'd first heard them as a student, a covenant of the school badge, a pledge from every Slytherin to stand united that he'd encouraged as a professor as a promise of unity and family. Albus turned to lead them out the door as was proper and Mr Goyle followed with head raised in quiet defiance.

Albus stepped into the twilight and his students raised their wands as one. Albus had no idea what they had planned as he felt Mr Goyle behind him. Several of the wands began to glow softly as a whisper went down the path and Albus understood. The students who couldn't conjure roses were lighting the path. Evans had placed them in a fixed pattern with three students between them. As Albus stepped aside Mrs Goyle gasped at the sight of them. He watched as the students nearest began to cast the spell and red and white roses began to fall to the ground from their wands. They watched in silence as the path was slowly covered. Mr Goyle swallowed audibly and took the first step forward.

"After you sir." Adrian Flint was at his side. Albus hadn't even noticed. He frowned. "As they walk past we're going to fall in behind you in procession," he told Albus quietly. Albus nodded. They had put a lot of thought into this. "Wands lit." He added shyly. Albus raised his wand with a nod of thanks for the instruction as the boy mimicked him and they walked.

-

"You know," Harry swallowed a mouthful of beer, "I never thought thirty years on my kid's kids would still be fighting the same war we thought we'd ended." Snape didn't answer. Harry was already well pickled, it wasn't even five o'clock, and he was in the mood to rant. "Those poor fucking kids! What the hell did we set them up for?"

"More of the same," Snape said softly. Harry blinked owlishly behind his glasses.

"What?"

"You, we, were fighting for continuity, more of the same. Potter, understand this, the house divisions at Hogwarts began long before any of us who were at that battle were born."

"You call students killing each other more of the same?" Harry spluttered. "Ok, the odd hex, harsh words and some who took it too far and got a bit physical, but never that far! We never wanted to actually kill each other." Harry ranted.

"Really?" Snape's eloquence with that one word made Harry stop.

"Go on, tell me one time anyone in my year deliberately tried to kill another before the war broke out." Harry challenged. Snape sat in silence for a moment.

"Did young mister Weasley not attempt a spell that would have had Draco's Malfoy throwing up slugs for days."

"It wouldn't have killed him, kids were using that spell on each other left and right it was harmless," Harry replied heatedly. "I mean really tried to hurt each other, we were harmless before the battle lines were drawn."

"And who drew those lines, Harry." Harry froze. Snape rarely called him by his name. "How many of the Slytherin students in your year had a real choice?" Harry opened his mouth as if to argue but he knew he'd lost.

"Ok, so Hogwarts failing Slytherins goes way back. But how many have actually been killed by other students in years when there was no war?" Harry was starting to get animated in his alcohol induced state of argumentativeness.

"During my tenure as head of house?" Snape said softly, "three." Harry dropped the mostly empty glass he'd been holding. It landed with a clatter and they were momentarily sidetracked by the spilt drink. Snape flicked his wand and the liquid disappeared. Harry picked up the glass. Lavender's unbreakable charms were some of the best in the business.

"What? When?" Snape half shook his head and Harry eyed him warily, even drunk he recognised a secrecy spell. "You willingly let someone- who's even powerful enough to cast something like that on you?" Harry demanded. No answer. It took Harry a second longer to put the pieces together. "Dumbledore." He said as he realised.

"He's been dead twenty odd years and the spell held?" Harry was more than a little academically curious that any spell would outlast the caster by that long. Snape half tilted his head. "Don't tell my son, he'll want to dissect you live, he's fascinated by spell longevity studies." Harry joked softly.

"You take me for a fool willing to give _James_ Potter any excuse hold a wand to my throat?" Harry didn't answer, he wasn't sure which James Potter Severus was even talking about. It was telling that he could have just as easily meant Harry's father as his son.

"I don't think Ginny meant him to turn out the way he did," Harry said softly, "I know I didn't, I never wanted to see my sons at war."

"The blame does not lay solely with the elder." Harry took a pensive sip of his drink.

"No, that one's on me, I let James get away with all but murder when he was a kid and Al was his favourite victim." Snape didn't comment about the cyclical nature of history, he didn't have to. The air was thick with the irony of James Sirius mercilessly bullying Albus Severus.

"What precisely do you intend to teach these children next week?" He asked instead. 

"I have no idea, I haven't seen a Hogwarts class in years I've no idea what they already know," Harry admitted. "I was going to ask Hermione to get me a copy of the charms and defence owl papers from last year and plan from there." Harry drank again. 

"I doubt they have changed much since I was a professor," Snape commented, "meaning these children are woefully ill prepared to defend themselves." Harry couldn't argue with that.

"Right, so auror level textbooks, I'll have to dig my old ones out or borrow Ron's." Harry mused. "Test them all do you think? How we're supposed to teach eleven-year-olds defensive hexes is beyond me though..."

"Frighten them." Snape commented, Harry looked up in surprise, "children learn best with motivation. Make them more afraid of the enemy than the teacher." Harry was about to comment when Snape smirked, "I do believe that professor Malfoy's preferred method is to wear short sleeves and explain to his first years how utterly terrified he was the day the spell that marked his arm was cast..." 

Harry laughed half-heartedly. He'd heard about it three times over. James had been completely terrified and tried to drop the class, Albus had taken it as a dare to prove he wasn't incompetent with a cauldron like his father and brother and demanded Aunt Hermione tutor him in the holidays and Lily had stood up and told Malfoy exactly what she thought of him and his dark mark. 

"Then tells them that they would wish that was all that happened to them if they didn't pay attention in his classroom. Scared the living daylights out of James when he saw that as a kid, I remember coming up to the school when he got detention for skipping the class because he was so scared he'd get a potion wrong." Harry shook his head in remembrance, "Still wouldn't go on my say so and Ginny was off training," a beat, "took a months worth of detention and Teddy calling him a coward before James went back." 

"And yet he became an auror," Snape pointed out.

"Never blew up a cauldron, melted a few but knew better than to drop fireworks in the swelling solution." They exchanged smirks, that was an old story now, Snape shook his head. 

"Yeah, Al took that as a challenge I think, determined to prove that he wasn't another idiot Potter who couldn't be trusted in a potions classroom, I think hearing that one of his ancestors was famous for it from the older Slytherins probably lit a fire under him, and Lily," Harry actually genuinely smiled, Lily's response to Professor Malfoy's dark mark was the stuff of Potter family legend, "her mother's daughter through and through."

Draco had written to him to tell him, as had Minerva who had heard the story from her head of house. Snape leant forward as if to prompt him to speak. "Put her hand up then stood there when called on, eleven years old, bold as brass, and told him he wasn't the only man she knew marked by Voldemort, said the name too," Snape didn't seem surprised, "told him her dad wore grandma Molly's Christmas jumpers in June and cried at _A Cauldron Full Of Hot Strong Love_ so he'd have to try harder than talking about a maniac from before she was born to scare her." Harry barely got the words out before he was laughing. "I have _never_ been more proud of hearing that one of my kids got a detention, I bought her a new gobstones set, we still tell that story at Christmas." Harry's smile froze suddenly as he thought of his wife. "Ginny was so proud when Lily went to Hufflepuff, that she'd had the nerve not to let James bully her into arguing with the hat after seeing what he did to Al." 

"Quite the force of nature, your daughter," Snape commented with a quirk of his lips. "Not unlike her namesake." Harry was still smiling at the memory that he half missed the comment. 

"You'd know better than I would." He answered, he'd never really pestered Snape about his mum, there had been an unspoken agreement between them to leave the past in the past. 

"Actually, I was referring to Miss Lovegood." Harry nearly choked on his drink. "An extraordinary young woman, magically gifted, and with the unusual talent of genuinely not caring one whit what anyone thought of her." Harry set the drink down firmly and opened his mouth, then closed it.

"You're not wrong there." He conceded after a moment. 

- 

Harry wrote the hastily scribbled letter between patients and sent it on his Monday morning break at ten from the hospital mail room. He hadn't heard from Albus since receiving a note on Sunday morning asking him to thank Snape for the potions and thanking him for his advice. The news that a student had been killed at Hogwarts had been all over the Monday morning paper. 

 

_SS,_

_Al says thanks for potions. I have a patient allergic to Bloodroot as well, with severe anxiety attacks, didn't dare experiment with alternatives myself- what did you use in the calming draught instead?  
_

_Have you seen these OWL papers? Looks like written by Umbridge. Fifth years not expected to know how to cast a shield or disarming spell! No wonder Al got bored studying defence and switched to charms focus and aurors take five years to train. Must remedy ASAP. See attached for list of suggested spells to teach all kids. Commentary from experienced teacher appreciated._

_HP_

_ps. headmistress wants a word with both of us. 0900 weds if she's still there. Morning headlines suggest she might not be. Thoughts?_

 

He was accosted by an owl who seemed irritated that it had been required to fly in the rain judging by the way it nipped his fingers as he was leaving for the day. The reply made him laugh.

 

_HP_

_Your handwriting suggests the hand of fate in your chosen career path even with muggle pen. Lemon balm is a suitable alternative to Bloodroot, two leaves per dose crushed not chopped, however, leaves a bitter aftertaste on waking. Recommend counteracting with milk or honey. See; Advanced Potions Making chapter 7.  
_

_Headmistress defending the perpetrators in special afternoon ed of_ Prophet. I _presume the busy doctor has not had time to peruse so enclosed_ relevant _page; consider meeting cancelled. Headmaster Longbottom may wish to rearrange.  
_

_Children unlikely to face boggarts, hinkypunks or_ animagi _. Find t_ he list _returned with further annotation. First round my shout,_ 8 pm _do not be late, bring lesson plans._

_SS_

-

Harry stepped into the bar and let the atmosphere wash over him. He waved at Lavender who pointed at a corner without him having to ask, Snape was already at the table massacring a piece of parchment with his quill. They spent a lively two hours discussing the most effective shielding charms and best way of disarming an opponent in a duel. Amusingly, Snape though Harry was far too reliant on incapacitating his opponent instead of disarming them first.

"Just don't fling me halfway across the great hall like you did with Lockhart, then, I'm only a poor mind healer after all and," Snape smirked at the put-on soft tone, "bit overpowered, your disarming spell."

"I do believe the odds of surviving a duel in that hall, based on past exploits using disarming charms, are rather stacked in your favour." Harry tipped his drink and downed a shot of the bottle of firewhisky they had been slowly draining since he arrived.

"I'm really not looking forward to going back there." Harry said eventually, Snape fixed him with a look.

"You presume I am?" Harry sighed and poured them both fresh drinks.

"Not at all, I think you're the only person who understands how hard meeting Albus on Wednesday morning is going to be."

"Which one?" If Harry didn't laugh at that particular quip he'd probably cry. They finished the bottle before he worked up the will to go back to Grimmauld Place for the night and face that empty house.


	4. Foundation Lessons

That morning Snape found Harry right where he expected to, almost. Knelt at Dumbledore's grave, head bowed in the low light of the rising sun. The Slytherins were due onto the Quidditch pitch at nine o'clock as the rest of the school began their first class of the day. He'd arrived at least an hour early. Potter didn't look up or give any other sign he'd realised he wasn't alone here.

 

"He would not have wished such a display of grief," Snape muttered quietly. Harry let out a sigh of relief.

 

"This isn't grief Snape, this is penance," Harry answered in the same hushed tone. "You may have cast the spell, but I was just as culpable in killing him that night."

 

"You were a child following orders."

 

"You were a spy following orders." Silence. Harry finally found the will to stand as somewhere a bell rang in the school. "And yet you didn't present a defence."

 

"There was no defence." Harry nodded once. Eventually, Snape had served several years in Azkaban despite Harry's best efforts. Snape had eventually demanded that Harry's testimony to all but the bare facts be struck from his trial transcript. Harry had been ready to start another war until they had finally let him see the man.

 

"Of course there was." It was an old argument that they never even acknowledged existed whilst sober. Not normally, anyway, not in two decades of acquaintanceship.

 

"Only at Nuremberg." Harry scowled. "This is Britain." There was a strange note in Snape's tone, Harry frowned, he'd never taken Snape for a patriot. "Where one does not show contempt for the law as to present such a defence regardless of the circumstances." Harry had no answer and it was all over now.

 

"You're must be the only person on the planet who would willingly walk into Azkaban. You're crazy." Snape snorted softly.

 

"So declares the man kneeling at a grave in penance twenty years after the fact."

 

"Ginny used to call me nuts as well," Harry commented and looked up at the castle, "did you read the morning paper?" Harry asked quietly.

 

"I did." Snape didn't elaborate, there was no need to.

 

"I never realised professor McGonagall was so..." Harry cast around in the stillness of the morning for the right word, "eloquent."

 

"In defence of students," Snape said lightly. "Minerva has always been a lioness." Harry choked back a harsher retort.

 

"As long as they were her lions."

 

"Quite."

 

"Anyway," Harry said, shaking himself from his reverie, "Quidditch pitch, half an hour?" He asked in a tone of faux brightness. Snape nodded. "I'll let you have some privacy." Harry said in the same irritating tone, "see you there, Professor Snape."

 

"Doctor Potter."

 

Harry left him staring at the still brilliant white tomb of their once shared mentor.

 

-

 

"Arry! Ow are ye?"

 

"Hagrid, ah-" Harry gasped as Hagrid's hug squeezed the air from his lungs, "bad business, but we'll manage like we always have."

 

"Aye, yer lads like a niffler wi a coin. Dint think 'ee'd actually let 'eadmistress leave." Harry made a sound of vague assent, he wasn't sure what the whole truth was and he was waiting to hear it from Albus.

 

"Did you forget who his mother and grandmother were?" Harry asked instead. "He'd kill and die for his kids Hagrid, he had good role models for that."

 

"Aye tha 'e did, is old man ain't exactly distant either." Harry shrugged. "Which splains where e got the reckless streak from." Harry laughed, Albus had forced the headmistress from the school all but single-handedly with no care for the consequences. Harry didn't break the silence. "That why yer back?"

 

"I'm back to try and stop another war before it starts," Harry answered bluntly.

 

"were tha professor Snape over by't lake?" Hagrid asked eventually. Harry nodded.

 

"You can take the head from Slytherin..." he commented slyly and Hagrid made a small sound like a laugh. "Albus asked for his help." Hagrid fixed Harry with a look, he didn't have to point out the irony of that statement.

 

"You two int same place, specially there, an not duelling?"

 

"We've spent too many nights over a bottle of firewhisky to duel over ancient history," Harry answered. "I need to go, we're duelling for the future in an hour."

 

"A might come an watch tha, could be int'restin." Harry snorted.

 

"When he kills me," Harry deadpanned, "don't let James bury me in red." Hagrid sighed. Apparently, the attempt at humour had fallen flat.

 

-

 

Albus had a way of keeping his students interested very easily. Harry wouldn't remember what he actually said as the old nerves surfaced at the thought of duelling Snape, but he remembered that it was good. Albus was overseeing. Harry shook Snape's hand firmly and nodded.

 

"University rules?" He asked softly. Snape nodded. Not many holds barred there, except the killing curse, unlike contest rules.

 

"Kids in the audience," Albus muttered quietly, in warning. Harry didn't listen and Snape didn't seem to either. If Albus wanted to see these kids live through a war then they needed to see what a real duel looked like. Harry took the usual two steps and spun before Albus declared the duel open. Several of the kids gasped but Albus had expected both he and Snape to skip the last step. University rules meant that there was no such thing as cheating and trying to duel honourably gave your opponent an advantage.

 

They swapped a few simple spells and then Harry dodged a knee cracker and the game was on. The Quidditch pitch was eerily silent as the master duellists battled it out. Snape was fast and skilled but Harry had pure power on his side. They were well matched. Snape hit him with a rib bruiser and he gasped out a confundus charm that just missed. Snape's eyes narrowed.

 

"You are being honourable, Potter." He taunted coolly and Harry let out a bark-like laugh.

 

"I leave that to you, Snape," his gut twister landed but Snape cast the counter in a second before it could do serious damage.Harry felt the telltale calm of a well-placed Imperio.

 

"Oh _Fuck_ you, Snape!" He swore as he threw it off and several students gasped.

 

"You don't have the stamina, Potter." Harry nearly dropped his wand. There weren't many people who could be composed enough in a duel to be facetious, especially after casting an unforgivable curse. Snape was playing with him. A few of the older students laughed and Harry used the temporary reprieve to do something entirely inadvisable.

 

"Crucio!" Harry completely forgot that there were kids in this crowd. _Snape had tried to control him. The gloves were off_. Snape didn't scream when the spell hit him but he did sway and it did distract him just enough. Harry didn't have the will to actually cause any real damage. He cast a wide range cooling charm over the pitch and several people cried out in shock as the cold bit into their bones.

 

"Well, Potter, that tickled," Snape smirked at him as he vanished his own outer robe in a challenge to Harry's attempt to mimic the cold of dementors. Harry knew that look, that was the look of a man who was finally glad to have an opponent worth facing. He set a ring of fire around the pitch and Harry summoned a rain cloud. The rain cloud became a snake, became a bird and flew away.

 

"Mind games, Potter," Snape called out almost cattily and Harry smirked right back.

 

"University rules, Snape." Harry flicked his wand and Snape's leg was halfway out from under him before he cast the counter. Harry spotted the telltale flick of Snape's wand but instead of moving completely he turned and lifted his left arm to protect his eyes.

 

Blood _everywhere_.

 

Snape had done that deliberately.

 

"That the best you can do, Snape?" He seemed to have had enough of Harry taunting him. They were both playing, neither in the mood to really hurt each other as their duel had gone from strangely formal to beyond legal and highly personal. Harry blocked Snape's attempt to break into his mind with absurd ease given their history. His shielding charm blasted his opponent back three paces. "Did you just try and break into a _mind healers_ memories? Are you Fucking _crazy_ Snape?"

 

Harry let loose a volley of violent cutting curses, stunners and a few darker curses. Snape blocked every one of them and fired several back. Harry was starting to get bored, they were barely duelling at all and there was no anger between them. A blasting curse deflected off of a stand caused an almighty racket and nearly brought the stand down. Luckily there were no students in it.

 

Harry's feindfyre dragon didn't make the situation any less volatile until Snape turned it into a dog and Harry knew exactly what this was. They were pushing boundaries, telling each other the same story. The dog became a werewolf and rushed back at the former potions master. It dissolved into nothingness and Snape's attempt to bind him with incarcerous had Harry using a rather violent cutting curse on the bonds before he was pulled back against the goalposts even as he doused Snape in cold water. A drying charm later Harry had Snape gagging on a mouthful of soap and Snape had him hitched up by the ankle. Harry landed in a heap and struggled back to his feet. His knockback jinx had Snape on his back it was so powerful. The fire raged around them and Harry decided he was going to make this even more interesting.

 

He lifted his wand and cast the spell, deliberately not vocalising it, it wouldn't do for students to know the incantation. Snape went drip white when the dark mark blasted from Harry's wand. Snape went on the attack but Harry knew he'd shaken him and the duel was over. Snape hit him with a spinning hex that made him vomit and Harry finally relented and cast a disarming spell between retching.

 

Snape's wand was halfway across the pitch when everything stopped suddenly.

 

The mark was gone, the fire extinguished. and someone was screaming.

 

Harry flicked his wrist and the tear on his sleeve closed over thee wound on his arm just as half a dozen professors arrived on the pitch.

 

"Who cast it!" Harry looked up from where he was leaning on his knees to catch his breath at Malfoy who looked like he'd seen a ghost. He summoned Snape's wand, handed it back to the man and shook his hand.

 

"I did,” He gasped out, eyeing Snape as if his breathlessness was somehow the Professor’s fault that he was not as fit as he’d been hoping he was, “university rules, Malfoy, and I was losing." Malfoy lowered his wand and several of the other professors follow suit.

 

"Well, that's certainly one way to distract your opponent," Snape commented as he regained his usual less-pale-than-he’d-gone-in-his-shock colouring. Harry hesitated, wondering if he’d gone too far. Snape’s lips quirked in a half smile.

 

"You started it." Harry retorted, smile undermining the harsh tone. "Your imperius curse is powerful."

 

"Your cruciatus curse is not."

 

"Not against you." Snape stopped short at Harry's admission.

 

"Dad, that was not necessary." Albus snarled harshly, he looked slightly ill. "I said show them a duel not traumatise them!"

 

"If they can't watch a friendly duel with no ill intent then they stand no chance." Harry shot back at his son as he pocketed his wand.

 

"You call that friendly? Unforgivable Curses? Feindfyre? _The dark mark_! Dad look at your arm!" Harry looked down at the bloodstained sleeve and laughed. He hadn’t noticed how much it was hurting under the rush of adrenaline.

 

"You didn't block it," Snape commented quietly. The students were still watching them huddled and Malfoy was handing out calming draughts.

 

"With what…? Plus, I didn't think to." That was a lie and they all knew it. "It's only a scar on my arm, shouldn't be a big deal." Albus' expression changed to understanding and Snape snorted softly.

 

"Fucking Gryffindors!" Albus hissed, Harry was quite shocked at his son cursing whilst sober but didn’t comment. "Do you ever grow up?" Harry shrugged as he retore the slevve, healed the wound and repaired the sleeve again with a wince.

 

"You want these kids to learn?" Albus glared at him. "Get them into groups, start dissecting that duel, make them figure it out for themselves, point out that we weren't actually trying to kill each other." Harry paused for a moment then added a pointed. " _Professor_." His son scowled, he didn't like being told how to do his job. "You asked for my help." Harry reminded him harshly. "You got it. You got me back here. Against all my better judgement-"

 

"Hey, Potter!" They both looked up. Malfoy's voice was like steel from where he appeared to be comforting a boy who looked like he might be a first year. "Why don't you duel someone your own age instead of picking on an old man?" Harry nearly laughed aloud, he exchanged an amused look with Snape who was smirking- again. Malfoy was raging. He genuinely wanted to hurt Harry after that display. He was genuinely shaken on seeing the mark in the sky above the Quidditch pitch.

 

"Took me ten minutes to best him, I bet I can take you in five." Harry retorted. Maybe he was doing it deliberately, maybe being on this pitch with that man brought out the old childish rivalry, or maybe, just maybe, his blood was up and he was in the mood for a proper fight. Maybe, for the first time since he'd kissed his dead wife's forehead and committed her body to the ground all those years ago, he had found something more addictive than alcohol in the rush of adrenaline that came with duelling a skilled opponent.

 

"That was stupid Harry," Harry hadn't even noticed Neville in the group of other professors, "someone reports that they'll have you in Azkaban for it." Harry rolled his eyes at his friends attempt to diffuse the situation, he should have known better than to try and stop Harry and Draco trading borderline unfriendly barbs.

 

"It means nothing, it's a symbol from the past. You want these kids to move on from that they need to learn to see things like that."

 

"Harry, half the staff here fought in the last war, you can't go around casting the dark mark," Neville answered reasonably.

 

"I just did and so far the only people who made any attempt to stop me are Professors Snape and Malfoy." Harry snapped. It was quite shameful actually how few of them were willing to raise their wands to fight. Albus had stepped across the pitch and begun discussing the duel with his students. "Seems to me like they're the only ones with the nerve to try anymore."

 

"Potter you idiot!" Malfoy yelled at him. "We're the ones who know exactly what that mark means and what kind of danger anyone under it would be in." Malfoy drew his wand.

 

"Exactly!" Harry yelled right back. He'd told no one that he'd planned this. "You two fight back because you know exactly what the alternative is. I know that. Do they?" Harry gestured wildly at the students who were listening to the conversation. "That was a friendly duel. Do you think any of these kids are ready to go to battle against another dark lord if they couldn't watch that without needing a calming draught." Malfoy deflated. He knew they weren't.

 

"Potter, I need a calming draught." Malfoy sniped quietly. "And I didn't even see it."

 

"And that is why these kids are completely fucked. There is literally no one left to fight anymore. We all got old and raised our kids to be soft." Harry half nodded at Malfoy in apology, the blond nodded back.

 

"Point made, Potter." Harry stepped aside and stood next to his son who was saying something to his students. Snape was already there. He didn’t wait to watch the other adults take to the stands or returned to the school.

 

"Questions for our duellists?" Albus asked his students. Most of them stood in silence. Eventually, A fourth-year girl raised her hand. Albus indicated her and muttered her name quietly.

 

"Sirs, most of the spells cast were none verbal, but some weren't. Was there a reason for that?" Harry exchanged a look with Snape who lifted his bottom lip into a thoughtful expression for a moment and indicated Harry to speak.

 

"None verbal spells give you the element of surprise," Harry started to say, "But sometimes saying the incantation can have a much deeper impact on your opponent." Harry glanced sideways. "Professor Snape is an accomplished and skilled duellist, I'm a blunt hammer compared to his surgeon's knife in a duel." He added. "If someone were to cast a disarming charm at you, you probably wouldn't flinch or feel any particular emotion.” He bit his lip in careful consideration, this was why he hadn’t become a teacher, he was terrible at explaining the theory, “Hearing someone casting a cruciatus curse at you… There are not many people alive who can hear that and not feel a jolt of panic, even when it's not a particularly powerful wizard or spell that you're facing, if you know what it does you’d be mad not to fear it,” He show a look askance at his son as if to ask if he was explaining this properly in a way these kids could understand, Albus half shrugged, “it’s one spell I always cast verbally for that reason…” He added before smiling at her, “ _and_ because I’m terrible at it."

 

"Is that what Professor Snape meant by 'mind games'?" Harry had the decency to look uncomfortable and Snape took over.

 

"Doctor Potter is a mind healer, his speciality is manipulating people despite his complete lack of subtlety in a duel.” Harry laughed at the sly dig, “The duel you saw was not decided by which spells landed or missed," Harry didn't interrupt, "but by Doctor Potter's willingness to use any advantage he could find in order to win.... this is the essence of any duel... you must know exactly how far you are willing to go to win." Harry cleared his throat. Snape shot him a look of confusion before he ceded the floor.

 

"What many of you won't be aware of, is the spells that were cast. Before I cast that curse Professor Snape had already hit me with an imperius curse, which I threw off, he cast deliberately to push me to duel properly." Some of the students glanced at Snape, he nodded once. Harry took a deep breath. "I cast the dark mark for one reason only," several of the students seemed to be holding their breath at the mention of it, "because as a mind healer I know exactly the impact seeing that thing has on a man of Professor Snape's age, or anyone really who remembers it" no one spoke, "because I have patients who still have nightmares…” It wasn’t a lie, he shot an apologetic look at Snape, the man had to know what he was going to say next, “and I was relying on the assumption that any man who stopped at Dumbledore's grave this morning would have a PTSD episode triggered if they saw that mark without warning." Snape actually smirked and nodded his approval.

 

"Sir, I don't understand," a sixth-year boy said, "you seem to be friends, to respect each other, why would you do that?"

 

"Because when you are duelling, you must learn to duel to win, no matter the cost, or accept that you will be killed," Harry answered coolly. "I didn't learn that until I entered the duelling competition at university. People are regularly killed and maimed duelling at the university level. Professor Snape knows better than to take anything that happened in that duel personally, as I do." Someone of the older students who knew who Snape was exchanged surprised glances- in their young minds there was no way casting that spell at that man was anything but piercingly personal.

 

"Doctor Potter cast that mark for the same reason I attempted to enter his mind." Harry took a step back. "Because he knew, as I did, that when you are fighting for your life, there is nothing you would not do to survive."

 

"Plus," Harry cut in, "no one expects Harry Potter to cast the dark mark. And most people would be horrified I even know the incantation." Even Albus snorted, a few of the students looked awestruck that Harry had said it so bluntly. "They like to pretend I'm still an innocent seventeen-year-old who relied on a disarming charm because he didn't have the stomach to fight."

 

"Why wouldn't you want to fight?" Harry smirked. Only a Slytherin would ask that question.

 

"I did want to fight, I just wasn’t _ready_ to kill,” He shrugged, “I was a Gryffindor, my sense of honour was worth more to me than my life." He answered bluntly. "And then I grew up." Several of the older Slytherins seemed to understand and a few of them snickered. “There’s nothing necessarily wrong with that,” Harry added pointedly and they quitened, “If you have a good life insurance policy.”

 

"You said they like to pretend that you're still innocent… sir?" Harry exchanged a look with Snape, only a Slytherin student would pick up on that.

 

"The muggles have a saying," Albus stepped in and put a hand on Harry's arm, "that you either die a hero or live long enough to see yourself become the villain." Harry waved him off, he knew what he was well enough without his son having to offer support or reassurance.

"I have lived my life being observed for any sign that I might be a danger. I was not much older than many of you when I had to make a decision…” He half shook his head, knowingly, “Once I’d had my say at the ministry, I chose a carefully constructed fade into irrelevance. My wife knew how to handle that, anytime there was a scandal she’d just go out and break a new Quidditch record.” It had been an in-joke between them. On the front page, the headlines would scream that he was the next dark lord because he’d yelled at some idiot who asked for an autograph when he was out with his family, on the back pages the headlines screamed that Ginny had caught the snitch in four seconds, or made the longest dive without killing herself, or outflown another international name in a seeker’s competition again. Viktor had always been up for some friendly humiliation when Ginny felt like going shopping and didn’t want people backing away from her husband in terror. “If this new dark lord doesn't try to recruit me I assure you I'll be right at the top of their hit list." He added, seeing no point in pretending that he was here just for a show.

 

"Why?" Harry shot a look at his son. Albus nodded tightly. This was why he wanted Harry here.

 

"For the same reason I'm here and the same reason I stay sharp even though my day job keeps me chained mostly to a desk." He answered. "Because like it or not I'm a figurehead and I still get an attempt on my life once or twice a year."

 

"Did anyone ever get close?" Harry exchanged a look with his son.

 

"More than once." He answered shortly. "And I have the scars to prove it."

 

"He doesn't mean the one on his head either," Albus added. Harry laughed softly and pulled off his robes with a hiss. His arm was still tender.

 

"Including this new one," he added quietly.

 

"What is that, sir?" One of the closer children asked. Harry looked down, half in admiration at the distinctive cutting pattern, Snape had cast it well so he didn't do any real damage.

 

"I am very lucky to still have my left arm," he commented, surprised, "that's going to sting later." He added and Snape snorted.

 

"I give you Doctor Harry Potter," he announced with a sneer, "a man capable of taking a dark curse to a major vein with nothing more to say than that it might _sting_ later." There was a round of nervous laughter at Snape's silky announcement. Snape’s voice hardened. "Behave like he has and you will not survive." Harry stopped listening, Snape was in lecture mode. He needed this hand healing properly, his own initial spellwork was shoddy at best.

 

"Dad, what is it?" Albus asked softly, wand in hand.

 

"Don’t,” Harry murmured quietly, Sectumsempra, I'm healing it properly now before the battlefield charm breaks, keep the kids busy they don't need to see the inside of my arm on the outside." Harry hissed.

 

"He could've killed you if he'd hit you in the face with that!" Albus snarled harshly under his breath. Harry snorted.

 

"You wanted a duel son, there's a reason we used university rules." Albus sighed.

 

"Well, I can't say you didn't get the kids excited." He commented wryly as Harry's arm finally healed properly.


End file.
